


EXCLUSIVE: local pizza boy turned murderer!

by thetys



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: (again), Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Fluff, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Implied Lee Taeyong/Moon Taeil, M/M, Minor Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Qian Kun, Minor Huang Ren Jun/Zhong Chen Le, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Original Character Death(s), the last three aren't major but just so you're aware
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21683638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetys/pseuds/thetys
Summary: A pizza delivery boy four years and counting, Jeno expects to live the rest of his mundane life in obscurity. Nothing goes to plan once his childhood friend appears in the middle of nowhere with a bounty on his head.or; in which lee jeno, in an unanticipated turn of events, kills a man, buries a body, and meets his childhood best friend, not quite in that order.
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin
Comments: 28
Kudos: 128
Collections: ’00 FIC FEST: ROUND ONE





	EXCLUSIVE: local pizza boy turned murderer!

**Author's Note:**

> first off, i'd like to thank the prompter so much for this absolute gem (#00288)! it was so fun to plot and play around it, and i hope you're satisfied with the direction i took :]  
> second of all, i'd like to say i hope you guys enjoy this. it's not terribly long, and personally i wish i could have done more, but i like what i've ended up, and i hope you guys do too.  
> third of all, this has been an amazing journey, and i hope the 00ff mods host another round next year!

PRISON BREAKOUT IN SAN FRANCISCO

by Katie Li in _The SF Times_

09/03/2020

At approximately 11:30 last night, the San Francisco Police Department issued a warning that three inmates had broken out of their cells while awaiting trial. They iterated multiple times that all three are deemed armed and dangerous, regardless of their possession of weapons or lack of. When pressed for details on how the inmates escaped, the police chief had no comments to provide.

From the prison records, the escaped inmates are Jaemin Na, Renjun Huang, and Chenle Zhong, who are charged with attempted manslaughter. The escape happened less than a week following their initial arrest, a feat which baffles investigators. “It is unheard of,” private investigator Brian Dolan said when we interviewed him on his thoughts, “that criminals, teenagers no less, could have planned an escape from a county jail. How could they have become familiar with the layout of the building? Moreover, where did they get the materials to plan their escape?”

All attempts to gain further information from the PD has been near impossible, and neither the police chief or her deputy would give us a statement of the level of security the inmates were subjected to.

* * *

Jeno looks down at the address. Looks up at the house. He looks down at the address again. Cranes his neck back to look at the number on the mailbox. Looks back at the house.

It’s not that he isn’t confident about his navigational skills. He knows the little town of Midland, CA – population 1,394, down from 1,395 when the old man off of Midland Road died – like he knows his own beat-up Volkswagen hippie-van, which has served him and his deliveries well. He can say with complete surety that he knows the location of every questionable stain on its ripped seating and walls, even if he doesn’t exactly know what the stain is.

No, the issue isn’t that he’s gotten the address wrong. It’s that he can’t believe the delivery is being made to _this_ house.

75 Willcox Alley is generally regarded as haunted, and no small fuss was made when Irene Bae bought it when she had a treasure trove of nicer, cleaner, unhaunted houses to choose from – which were only two other choices, but semantics. Neighbors always whispered about the flashing lights that could be seen from inside the house during the night (a few rowdy teens getting high), strange moans coming from the shed out back (Jeno tried not to think of the reason for those), and the occasional scream heard from deep in the tall grass at the back of the property (that was Jeno’s fault most of the time – he had to release his frustrations somehow). But the real hauntings, the ones no one could explain, were strange markings dug into the fence posts, and how there was always a set of new ones every day – with no evidence of the old ones underneath. They were ominous bird calls that could never be pinpointed. They were the shivers you felt passing by the front gate, whether from the wind or a ghost, you couldn’t be sure.

So why he’s delivering a pizza to “James MacNamara” at 75 Willcox Alley, which is, by all accounts, owned by Irene Bae, he can’t be sure. But it didn’t seem right, and the name rang faint bells in his memory that he couldn’t quite ignore. So even though Alice was on delivery duty with him tonight, he took the order for himself before she could protest otherwise, and before anyone could say anything about how his shift was ending in another twenty minutes, he raced out the door.

He sighs and stiffens his shoulders. He isn’t here to solve mysteries. All he has to do is deliver the pizza, collect the money, and not think too hard about what he’s going to do on his off day tomorrow.

Irene wasn’t exactly a recluse, but she didn’t make her presence known either. Every once in a while, the residents would see her at the general store, maybe stopping by the barber for a quick trim, but she kept to herself and didn’t interfere much in other people’s business. Jeno thinks she’s far too pretty to be stuck in the middle of nowhere when she could be in San Diego, living the life in an urban center, but he’s not judging. Sometimes it’s better to stay anonymous, detached from something you used to have and can no longer keep.

Jeno lifts the heavy metal door knocker and tries not to be too weirded out by the snarling woman’s face on the base. It’s only his third time at Irene’s house since she’d moved here, which isn’t as strange as it may seem. He couldn’t always be on shift, so could have been a coincidence that if she did order pizza, it happened on Amelia’s shift. Still, he could never shake the creeping feeling up his spine when he had to come here.

He hears thumps from inside, readjusts the box in his hand, and rummages through his cargo pant pockets to find where he put the receipt. The door creaks open and a guy’s voice says, “Hey Irene, the pizza is here! I’m paying with your money!”

“Are you James MacNamara?” Jeno asks, eyebrows furrowing and his gaze focused on his pants as his pockets keep turning up empty. Admittedly, there are a lot of them, but that’s why this pair is his favorite. “Sorry, I’m trying to find the receipt.”

“The one that’s in your hand?” the guy in front of him says, who he still hasn’t bothered to look at it. He blinks at the hand holding the pizza box. When he finally glances up, the smile slips right off his face. “James MacNamara” isn’t the white man Jeno was expecting him to be. Instead, he’s an Asian guy with wavy silver hair, looking about the same age as Jeno, and the curious tilt of his head reminds Jeno too much of –

But that couldn’t be right. What would he be doing here? Jeno had left San Francisco behind when his parents died and moved to the only place he thought he’d never be found. So how is he here? What does he want? And before he can think that the guy hasn’t recognized him, before he can think through the implications of what he is about to ask and how it will upend the whole life he’s made here, he whispers–

“–Nana?” When the boy’s face freezes, he gets the sinking feeling in his gut that he’s right, and it’s only made worse when his eyes lit up in recognition.

“Jeno?” The boy – Jaemin, Jeno corrects himself, although it’s been a long time since he’s thought of him at all – looks shaken to see him too, and he pulls back as if thinking about bolting back into the house. “Well, uh. How are you?” He asks weakly.

“Fine,” Jeno answers, feeling quite distant from the current dilemma. “I’ve got your pizza.”

“Oh. Right. Of course, because that’s your–that’s your job?”

“Yeah, the glorious life of a pizza delivery boy,” Jeno says drily, slipping back into his usual sarcasm before remembering that he’s talking to _Jaemin_. He shifts his weight from his right leg to his left as he waits for Jaemin to count out the money, and when they exchange goods, he could’ve sworn he felt a crackle of electricity when their hands brushed.

“Well, uh. Thanks–”

“–Why did you use James MacNamara?” Jeno blurts out, immediately bashful as he averts his gaze before bringing it back to Jaemin. He hadn’t wanted to mention it, but it seemed so important, and he couldn’t remember why he thought that. But judging by the way the tips of Jaemin’s ears tint red, he might not want to find out.

“Why are you asking?” It’s an obvious attempt to distract Jeno from the question, but he doesn’t rise to the bait. He continues to watch Jaemin, ignoring the prickling heat of his cheeks. They stare at each other in a silent stand-off until there’s a crash from the upper floor of the house and a string of curses. Jaemin startles a bit and eyes the stairs behind them before grunting in annoyance.

“I used it because it was a name I only ever used with you, and I sure as hell wasn’t expecting you to be in this middle-of-nowhere town to recognize it. Now if you’ll please excuse me, I have to make sure my acquaintances don’t destroy Irene’s house.”

“Jaemin, that better be the pizza!” An accented voice calls from the top floor. It sounds a little slurred, like the person it belongs to is trying their hardest to stop the full thing from bleeding through. Jaemin hisses out a breath and narrows his eyes.

“Sorry our reunion got cut short. For the good it’ll do you now, Jeno, I hope we never see each other again.” The door shuts on Jeno’s face before he can respond, and he’s distinctly dissatisfied by the whole encounter.

But his job is complete, and what he should be doing is clocking out of work and going back to Ms. Keiry’s house to sleep away the troubles of the night. He leaves 75 Willcox Alley and doesn’t think twice about the strange encounter with a long-lost childhood friend.

Five hours later, the doorbell of Ms. Keiry’s house and demands attention, and knowing that his landlord’s hearing was about as sharp as a doorknob, Jeno takes his sweet time getting out of bed to see who it is. If they were willing to try and wake him up at 5:30 am, they could wait until he felt somewhat like a human being. The bell kept ringing and Jeno scrunched his nose, pressing one ear against his shoulder as if it would do anything to block out the noise. He trudges down the hall of the only floor of the house and grumbles under his breath about having the decency to at least wait until the sun had risen before making any housecalls, and he unlocks the door with a weary sigh.

His face slackens when he sees a wild-eyed Jaemin standing outside. A glance behind him reveals three more people – one of which is a corpse.

“Hey, listen, I know this looks bad, but I swear there’s an explanation. Can we come in?” Jeno wordlessly steps aside and watches as Jaemin helps the other two bring the dead man inside, and if he had any capacity to react to the situation, he would’ve winced at the struggle of dragging in a burly man who looked like he weighed close to 200 pounds.

“What happened to never seeing each other again?” he asks faintly when he finally recovers his voice. Jaemin raises an eyebrow in his direction.

“These are extenuating circumstances.”

Jeno lets out a laugh full of restrained hysteria. “I sure hope showing up to my home with a dead body is an extenuating circumstance.” He pauses and processes his own words. “Wait, how did you know where I lived?”

“I tracked you home,” one of the boys pipes up from behind Jaemin, and Jeno recognizes his voice as the same accented one from the night before. He notes his slim, slight figure and wonders how a pretty boy like him could be so crooked. “It was easy, actually. Your van was so unique, even that silly little owl could keep up.”

“Gē, stop talking,” the other one hisses, and the most immediate feature Jeno notices is his square jaw. Pretty Boy shuts up, but he levels Square Jaw with an unamused stare that clearly communicates that he isn’t doing it for his sake.

“Renjun, Chenle, can you please save your lover’s quarrels for after we’ve dealt with the very real possibility we'll end up in prison again?” Jaemin asks, a hand resting on his cocked hip. He blinks slowly. “That didn’t endear you to us one bit, did it?” he directs to Jeno, and Jeno shakes his head so hard his hair whips his eyes.

“I’m not above begging you to tell me what’s going on.”

“I’ll put you out of your misery,” Square Jaw speaks again. “This man threatened us this morning, so Jaemin knocked him out with a little too much force and we think he bled out internally. But we couldn’t bury him on Irene’s property, so we tried to figure out where we could take him.”

“And I remembered that Jaemin knew you, and you had a car, so worst comes to worst, Lele could have brainwashed you into taking us out into the desert. Although you’d kinda be stuck with us after that, because we’d be stupid to leave you here when you know this much.” Pretty Boy, who must have been Renjun, finishes, a wide smile overtaking his face. Chenle and Jaemin sigh in unison and Jeno gets the impression they’re used to Renjun’s antics. “So can you drive us into the desert to bury this body?”

Jeno thinks it over for all of two seconds before he comes to a conclusion. “It doesn’t matter, does it? Might as well do it with my own free will.”

“That’s the spirit,” Renjun chirps, and although Jaemin grimaces the slightest bit, he doesn’t argue. Jeno trudges over to the hooks next to the kitchen doorway and grabs the keyring for his hippie-van.

* * *

GONE WITH THE WIND: THE SHOCKING DISAPPEARANCE OF JENO LEE

by Brenna Laughlin in _San_ _Diego_ _News_

09/06/2020

A little over two hours away from the bustling metropolis of San Diego is a small town of a little over 1,000 people called Midland. There is a single pizza shop there – Pedro’s Pizza – that used to employ six people in total. That number has been reduced to five following the disappearance of Jeno Lee, a simple delivery boy.

Midland has no record of gang violence or major criminal activity, typical of a small, unknown town. It’s so quiet that they don’t even have local police and rely on the State Patrol to resolve any emergencies. But all these facts make them easy targets.

Last night, Jeno Lee was on the clock delivering pizzas to Midland and nearby towns. By this morning, Jeno vanished. Pedro Ballinas, Jeno’s employer and owner of the establishment, said he became concerned when Jeno, recently turned 20, hadn’t shown up to work around 11 am. It was unusual of the young man, he confessed, who had always been so punctual. An hour passed and Jeno hadn’t shown up, so he began calling the home he lived in with a sweet old lady named Heather Keiry, who unfortunately could not be reached for comment. No response was received, and that was when Pedro called the State Patrol.

Their first point of inquiry was whether Jeno had kidnapped or run away. The townspeople said he drove a distinctive yellow Volkswagen, and when the patrol officers went to investigate, the van was nowhere to be seen. When questioned, one neighbor said they remembered a group of two or three people knocking at the door of Ms. Keiry’s house in the early morning, where Jeno lived, and about ten minutes later, the group came out of the house, with Jeno in tow, and left in his Volkswagen. However, they couldn’t remember many details about the appearances of the people in the group, so the troopers searched for possible video evidence. As it was, no one in the vicinity had security features of any kind, and the investigation seemed to stall. All attempts to call his number led to his voicemail.

Jeno Lee’s disappearance is a mystery, and with no clues to work on, the State Patrol asks that all residents of San Diego, Imperial, Riverside, and Orange counties remain alert for a yellow Volkswagen hippie-van.

* * *

Jeno isn’t quite sure what to think of his life. If someone had told him three months ago that he would one day end up on the lam with a group of convicts, he would have laughed. If that same person had told him one of those convicts would be his old childhood friend, he would have contemplated calling the hospital. If they had continued to say he would find himself across the country in Nashville, Tennessee three months from then, he would have gotten a restraining order.

Nashville is a nice city, he muses. It has the bustle he would expect from a state capital, the rush to and from some unknown location to another, equally unknown. But, reminiscent of the blues music it’s renowned for, the city feels like it’s drifting on a melody, not completely rooted to the ground. He knows he’s likely one of the few who think that, but even the shock of being around so many people after years of being around 1,094 isn’t enough to take away from the mystification he feels.

Jaemin roughly pulls him back onto the sidewalk, and Jeno blinks emptily at the car that races through the spot he had just been standing in.

“Jesus, Jeno, you’re gonna get killed if you keep spacing out like that,” he grumbles. Jeno looks behind him and smiles gratefully despite Jaemin’s disgruntled expression, and he lifts his backpack higher on his shoulders. It’s the most hideous green and looks disturbingly like vomit if Jeno stares at it too long, so he had offered to wear it so he wouldn’t have to look at it.

“Why are we in Nashville anyway?” he asks. The crosswalk light turns white and they move with the crowd.

“Well, there’s a person I wanted to meet up with. He’s settled down in Nashville for now, works for Vanderbilt’s hospital, so I was hoping we could catch him before we move on.”

“And this has to do with the whole… situation you got stuck in?”

“Yeah. Chances are he can help us, but if not, Renjun and Chenle know a couple in Michigan who’d be willing to hide us for a few days.” Jeno chooses not to question anything Jaemin told him and focuses on the very important fact that their shoulders were touching from how close they were walking. He couldn’t look at them because that would mean looking at the backpack that he was trying to keep out of his sight, but Jeno knew it was there and he wasn’t sure what to feel about it.

Jeno is a weak man. A very, very weak man. He can’t help but fall in love with every pretty boy who passes by, and Jaemin happens to be very pretty. He also happens to be a murderer. Who isn’t technically a murderer? He still doesn’t understand that part, probably because he’s still trying to get used to the fact that Renjun can transport his conscious into other minds, Chenle has some sort of hypnotization or brainwashing ability, and Jaemin can rip holes in the space-time fabric. The whole “government agents with superhuman abilities trying to kill us for escaping” thing is going to take a little longer to process.

Somewhere between “Jaemin is a mutant?” and “On god what if the government tries to kill me too?”, they’d arrived outside an apartment complex named Apollo Midtown. Jeno assumes this is where they were going to meet Jaemin’s friend, and he doesn’t question the strange password Jaemin says into the buzzer. It sounds like it’s another language – Korean? It would make sense since they grew up speaking it at home, although Jeno knows he’s forgotten a lot of it after having no one to speak to. He doesn’t pay much attention to the apartment halls, glossing over the minimalist art as they come out of the elevator and onto the third floor, and they stop at one of the doors near the end. The door creaks open without Jaemin even knocking.

“Hey Illie-hyung,” he greets, a sunshine smile spreading across his face.

“Nana!” The door opens wider to reveal a young man, two or three inches shorter than Jaemin or Jeno, with a black, messy undercut that’s been grown out. That’s all Jeno is able to process before the man is hugging Jaemin enthusiastically and pulling him inside. “Come in, come in. Yongie, we’ve got guests!”

“Is it Ten again? He owes me twenty dollars and I know he’s gonna try to weasel his way out of it,” a voice complains from inside one of the rooms. It’s not long after that another man walks out, his bubblegum hair standing out against the cream-colored walls and his tan skin. “Oh, Jaemin! You’re back.”

“Hi Yong-hyung, I didn’t know you were back! I hope you don’t mind, I brought the whole gang.” He turns around and motions the rest of them inside, shutting the door after Renjun enters behind the others. “You know Chenle and Renjun,” he says, and they wave at the two men, “and this is Jeno.” He greets them politely and takes off the backpack and his shoes. Undercut pushes them all into seats while Bubblegum Hair shuffles around the kitchen to pull out some glasses and bowls.

“Sorry for the mess, Yongie was supposed to be on cleaning duty and he decided to take a nap instead.” The barbed statement is followed by a pointed stare at Bubblegum Hair that is masterfully ignored. “Anyway, I’m Taeil, Jeno, and that’s Taeyong. You can call both of us hyung if you want.” Jeno gives a robotic nod as he tries to determine why he wants to burst into tears over the simple offer.

“Hyung, I kinda need your help.” Jaemin looks nervous, but all Taeil does is roll his eyes good-naturedly.

“Oh, is this about the San Diego fiasco? Don’t worry about it, Yongie has you covered.”

“I messed around with the security cams around the place, so the police will have conflicting evidence in their files, and I erased the soft copies of some of the hard-copy documents I stole. Piece of cake.” Taeyong says it with such aplomb that Jeno almost forgets that it’s unlawful to tamper with crime scene evidence.

“Thanks for that, Taeil,” Renjun says from his stretched out position on the couch, head in Chenle’s lap. “We still have the problem that _someone_ managed to get us filed in the criminal system. Wasn’t that an absolute blast, Jaemin?” The man in question clears his throat.

“It wasn’t entirely my fault, Chenle could just as easily have–”

“–Don’t drag Lele into this, he’s absolutely innocent here. He was half-dead on his feet the whole time!”

“I couldn’t teleport us out of there, that would be more suspicious than literally anything else we could’ve done!”

“Uh, guys?” Jeno pulls nervously on Jaemin’s jacket sleeve and points at Taeil and Taeyong when he gets his attention. “Save this for another time?” Jaemin pales and sits back primly.

“Yeah, uh. That’s a good idea. Later, Renjun.” The terrifyingly sweet smile on Taeil’s face doesn't disappear.

“What an excellent idea. Where were we?”

“Criminal record?” Jeno suggests.

“Ah yes. Don’t worry, I’ll have that covered by tonight. You’d be surprised how easy it is to access any police database remotely, it’s like they all share the same security codes.”

“Right,” Jeno mumbles, wondering earnestly how the hell he got involved in all of this. His social circle had expanded from three people to a host of somewhat lowkey criminals, albeit criminals whose actions came with a level of justification. It frustrates him how difficult it still is to wrap his head around it, even though he’s had three days to process it.

“So Jeno, what can you do?” Taeyong speaks up, breaking his train of thoughts. He startles a bit, then looks at him with a sheepish smile.

“I, uh. I don’t have any abilities. I just got pulled along for the ride.” Taeyong raises an eyebrow.

“So you’re a–”

“–Taeyong-hyung, if you have something to say, we can talk in another room,” Jaemin interrupts, eyes narrowed. “Otherwise, I think this particular conversation is over.” The two have a staredown, broken only when Taeyong closes his eyes and shrugs.

“Have it your way then.”

Evidently, no one was going to mention that again. Taeil offered to let them stay the night, but Jaemin declined, saying they were on their way to Michigan to let Renjun and Chenle meet some people before they went underground for some time in Florida. In the morning, Nashville was well behind them as they hit the road once more.

* * *

STATUS REPORT

09/15/2020

MISSION 739, OBJECTIVE 3, SUB-OBJECTIVE A

Targets were tracked to XCENSOREDX, XCENSOREDX. An operation was launched to capture and restrain the mutants at 0151, which failed. Three agents dead: D02 (bullet in the head), B49 (spliced through temporal space), and A07 (blood loss from a stomach wound). Two agents injured: D23 (spinal injury) and E05 (missing right arm). Requesting a) back up, b) improved ammunition and technology, or c) termination of mission.

A16

* * *

To hold a weapon is one thing, to use it is another, and to succeed in killing someone, Jeno realizes, is a level above both. You can hold a gun and not know how to use it, you can shoot a gun and fail to hit any meaningful target, but once that bullet hits home, once someone bleeds out in front of you, that’s when you realize you’ve become someone else. Jeno doesn’t remember what led to the shootout, or what led to their current location, or anything between the time they entered Michigan and now. All he remembers is a guy in black, holding a gun against Renjun’s head, a scream from someone, somewhere, and then the guy is collapsing on the ground like a puppet that had its strings cut, and there’s a _gun_ in his hand, wisps of smoke escaping the barrel.

And then he finds himself here. It must be the shock, he thinks as he hugs himself, back pressed against the wall. He doesn’t want to sit down, but he doesn’t want to feel exposed either. They’re in a small warehouse, somewhere around 50 feet wide and however many feet long, and Renjun is busy trying to patch up a vicious cut Jaemin’s upper arm while simultaneously getting coddled by Chenle a couple feet away. No one has mentioned what Jeno had done, but he supposes it’s only a matter of time.

When Renjun is finished, Jaemin pushes himself off the ground with his right arm, keeping the bandaged left one close to his chest. He looks in Jeno’s direction and stares, seeming to debate something with himself, before he finally decides to go over to him. Jeno tenses, preparing himself mentally for–

For what? He isn’t sure why it’s making him so anxious, but he doesn’t want to hear the disappointment that is inevitably coming.

It doesn’t come. All Jaemin does is pull him in a one-armed hug and rests his forehead on Jeno’s shoulder. It takes a few seconds for it to process, but then Jeno returns the hug. If he feels the minute shakes of Jaemin’s body, he doesn’t say anything about it. He doesn’t mention how Jaemin’s eyes are bloodshot when he lifts his head, or that he’s sniffing more often afterward.

They arrive in Canton somewhere around 4 in the morning, and even though it’s pitch black outside, the man who opens the door doesn’t seem surprised to see them on his front porch. He ushers them inside, doesn’t ask questions, introduces himself as Kun in a soft voice, and leads them to the two spare bedrooms. It almost makes Jeno cry from the overwhelming emotions inside him, but he chooses to instead collapse on the bed – without his backpack, of course – and wait for Jaemin to join. He hears hushed conversations for a minute or so outside, and then the bedroom door opens, letting in a strip of golden light before it closes again. He catches a flash of silver hair, its black roots starting to show, and smiles before he can think twice about it. It wasn’t easy, per se, to fall back into any sort of friendly dynamic, but running for your life does that to you. The fact that Jeno thinks Jaemin is a little, teensy bit hot doesn’t help his “friendship” dilemma.

But he’s too tired to think of that particular fact right now. Sure, a hot dude is in the same bed as him, but it doesn’t mean anything. They’re exhausted in every way possible and deserve rest. Nothing weird about it, he chants in his head. Nothing weird at all.

He wakes up with a strangled, quiet cry at around 6. His skin feels clammy, his eyesight is blurred by unshed tears, and there’s a warm body pressed against his back.

Oh. A warm body. It doesn’t take long for him to put two and two together, and the nightmare (not a nightmare, a memory – a vivid, terrible memory) is pushed to the back of his mind as registers that Jaemin is wrapped around him like a koala, and he starts to think it means something after all. Because Jaemin doesn’t cuddle in his sleep. In all the days (which are admittedly only three) he’s seen him sleep at night in the same vicinity as Renjun and Chenle while Jeno drives, he’s only ever seen Jaemin curl into himself as he sleeps and turn his back to the other two.

There were many things to think about in light of this development. Jeno chooses to go back to sleep.

When he wakes up again, at a reasonable 9 am, his back is cold and Jaemin is gone. He isn’t sure what to think about that.

Kun is as welcoming in the morning as he was at 3 am. By the time Jeno stumbles downstairs, he’s already enamored by the enticing smell of the breakfast Kun had laid out on the counter, and he rushes out a hurried thank you before grabbing a plate to dig into. After being on the road for four days with only cheap gas station meals to live off of as they passed through the rolling farmlands of the Midwest, having a real breakfast is something akin to a godsend.

Another man joins them, who Renjun introduces as his Sicheng-gē, and Jeno swallows so fast he chokes in an attempt to greet him. He notices Jaemin struggling to hold his laughter and pouts, and Jaemin looks away as soon as he notices. A barely noticeable flush stains the tips of his ears, only half covered by his faded silver hair.

Jeno chooses to ignore that for now. They have more pressing matters, like how to handle the fact that 8 hours ago they were almost captured by the government. They get suggestions with various levels of helpfulness, ranging from Renjun’s “let’s fight them” to Kun’s “we have a spare hideout”. They all agree that they’re in a precarious situation, and all options are being kept in mind (minus Renjun’s), when Jeno decides to take a break and go outside.

Canton isn’t a small town – it can’t be with a population of over 60,000 – but the field of prairie grass right outside Kun and Sicheng’s house reminds him of smaller places. He hasn’t had a chance to think about everything he left behind, especially not with the rollercoaster of emotions the events of the past two days. But in moments like these, where everything is peaceful and still, he remembers the simpler times, when all he had to worry about was how to survive as an orphaned teen in the middle of a huge city.

He’s not wary of people, not by any means. But he’s usually better at avoiding attachment, sticking to superficial acquaintances because he’s never gotten over how much his parents’ death tore from him. Even now, he feels the need to pull away before he gets too close, but what good does it do him now? Where would he go, and how would he deal with the aftermath? He’s already killed a man for them, not because they asked but because he felt the need to protect them. That isn’t something he can take back and say “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to kill that man for you.”

He’s too deep in his thoughts to notice Jaemin coming to stand by him, although once he does, he doesn’t find himself particularly surprised. That’s been happening a lot lately. It’s not an expectation, but it’s a sort of understanding. He’s starting to understand that, by nature and need, Jaemin is someone who needs to support others. He dislikes bearing the burden of being the leader, but he encourages everyone with his own energy and passion. Another thing to like about him, Jeno sighs to himself. Add it to the list.

“What’s up?”

“Just some thinking. It’s crazy how I ended up halfway across the country and traveled through more cities than I’ve lived in. With a band of criminals too.” Jeno nudges Jaemin’s side with his elbow and his efforts get a weak smile in return.

“I wanted to apologize again–”

“–I’m gonna cut you off right there. Sure, you might have basically kidnapped me, but it could definitely be worse. I mean, you can teleport and you still insist on walking around like a normal person, so you can’t be that evil.”

“That’s your reasoning for traveling with me around the country?” Jaemin asks incredulously. When Jeno gives him a cheeky grin in response, he can only shake his head. “You’re a work, Jeno.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

It’s stupid, but Jeno thinks that if he gives it enough time, he might actually fall in love with Jaemin. It would be harder to resist the urge to give Jaemin the entire world than to give in, and he’s _killed a man_ on their behalf, so the situation is most likely out of his control anyway. He’s pretty, sweet, sassy, and it doesn’t help that he’s only cuddled Jeno over the past four days.

Yeah, Jeno could definitely fall in love with him.

* * *

GONE WITH THE WIND: THREE YEARS LATER

by Brenna Laughlin in _San Diego News_

09/06/2023

One year ago today, the town of Midland was shaken by the abrupt and strange disappearance of one of their residents. Jeno Lee, a 20-year-old, now 21, Korean American. The baffling circumstances surrounding his disappearance have confused authorities to this day, who haven’t been able to find any trace of Jeno or the yellow Volkswagen he was purported to have driven. As the town returns to a tentative peace, they wonder if the cycle is beginning anew.

Yesterday, Irene Bae vanished. Today, the town wants answers.

* * *

“Jeno, throw me that hammer.”

“It’s not gonna be my fault if it hits your face,” he warns, testing the weight of the wrench in his hand to see how hard he has to throw it.

Jaemin has the audacity to laugh in the face of a very real threat. “Don’t worry, I’ll just teleport out of the way.”

“Then it’s gonna hit the wall, idiot,” Jeno retorts and walks over to place the hammer in Jaemin’s hand.

“Coward,” Jaemin sniffs, although his eyes crinkle at the corners as he holds back a smile. “When did the lovestruck 20-year-old make a comeback?” Jeno gasps and dramatically places a hand on his chest.

“You dare compare my cynical self to the naive person I was three years ago?”

“I never said you were the 20-year-old in question,” Jaemin says, although the triumphant smirk that came with it is wiped away by the shrieking laughter that emerges when Jeno goes for a tickle attack. “Oh-Oh my g-god, stop! Stop tha-at!”

“Take it back,” Jeno says, continuing his assault without mercy.

“Itakeitback,” Jaemin rushes out, taking a heaving breath when Jeno lets go and steps back. He wipes away the tears gathering in his eyes and points the end of the hammer at Jeno. “You’re a cruel man. I can’t believe you got me to date you.”

“I was pretty convincing wasn’t I,” Jeno muses, dancing out of reach of the half-hearted jab that comes his way. “Don’t be like that, Nana.”

“Then don’t be such a bastard, _Nono_.” Jeno grimaces at the use of the strange nickname.

“You won’t ever let that go, will you?”

“Of course not.” Jaemin makes a shooing motion with the hand that wasn’t holding the hammer. “Run along now, make sure Yangyang and Chenle haven’t tortured Xiaojun to death.”

“You know we’re not their parents.”

“But it sure is fun to boss them around,” Jaemin replies wickedly, turning back to the chair he’d started to fix. “Love you.”

“Love you.” Saying they loved each other after every conversation was a tradition they started last year after Jeno almost died – not for the first time, but definitely the closest he’d gotten. Jaemin developed separation anxiety for the next three months until Jeno was able to convince him that he couldn’t keep breaking down every time Jeno so much as left the room, and they’d been working on it since. One way to help was to make sure they didn’t leave any argument unfinished. Another way had become saying they loved each other so that, in the morbid worst-case scenario, they wouldn’t have too many regrets.

He can handle about a day of separation now, although that time significantly worsens if he finds out Jeno is going into a dangerous situation. But that will always be part of their existence, and even if they can get it down to a manageable and reasonable level, Jaemin will never stop worrying. Jeno doesn’t expect him to.

To his relief, Yangyang and Chenle are somewhat peacefully playing Battlefield on the Xbox, punctuated by a shout of pure misery from either one when they die. Chenle is sitting sideways in Renjun’s lap, who planned well ahead and put headphones on so the gamers didn’t interrupt his light reading.

“Is he reading Pride and Prejudice?” Jeno asks. Chenle’s eyes flick over to him before returning to the screen.

“Hey, Jeno. Yeah, it’s Pride and Prej.”

“Prej?”

“Prejudice is too long, ya know?”

For someone who had been spelling and debate champion in high school, Chenle sure doesn’t care about following the rules. Jeno has come to believe it’s less of a personal development and more so that Renjun and Jaemin have influenced him a little too well.

“By the way, there’s mail for you,” Chenle says. Jeno sighs and thanks Chenle for the heads up before going to the kitchen island where someone had scattered the mail. His eyes are drawn to the off-white color of the envelopes Irene always uses, although he would’ve recognized the handwriting regardless. Her loopy script is a dead giveaway. He walks back outside as he tears the envelope open, skimming for the main idea of the letter before getting to the specifics.

“Nana, are you ready for a road trip?” Jaemin makes a short, confused “hn” and turns around. Jeno points at the letter in his hand. “Irene wants us to go out to Chicago. According to her, there’s another late bloomer like me, and we have to keep eyes on him to see if he’ll be a threat or not. If he’s good enough, she gave us the go-ahead for recruiting.”

“Oh, a recruiting mission?” Jaemin confirms, immediately gaining interest in the mission. “And she said we can go together?”

“Yeah. Get your duffel, we’re heading out within the hour. I’ll let Irene know we accepted.” As Jaemin passes, he presses a quick kiss to his forehead. “Bring my duffel down too, love you.”

Jaemin rolls his eyes, exasperated. “Duh, when have I not. Love ya.” Jeno smiles like the sun as Jaemin heads inside and looks at the yellow Volkswagen sitting outside.

“Well, old girl. Looks like we’re taking you out for another spin.”


End file.
